LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 






UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



J 



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A SOUVENIR 



POSTHUMOUS WRITINGfl^OF 



ALLA HUBBARD SPENCER 



WITH 

A BIOGRAPHICAL AND LITERARY INTRODUCTION 

BV 

J. R. DARN ALL 



NEW YORK 
JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBL 
1890 




^ ^ 



T5 5,?l.r 



( <^ 



Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

JOHN B. ALDEN. 



CONTENTS. 

Preface, - - - - - 5, 

POEMS. , ; 

Dcstiii}-, - ... - - 13' 

Partings, - - - . . 15 

Eventide, - - - . - - 17 

I would not Live this Life Again, - 18 

Jealous}', - - - - - 20: 

A Summer in the Mountains, - - 21 

Midsummer Rain, - - - - 24 

The World is Weary, - . . 25 

IVIidnight, - - - - - 27 

Translated from the German, - - 29 

Summer Twilight, - - - - 30 

Morning, - - - - * , 33 

Midsummer, ----- 35 

Mirage, . _ . . . 37 

Music, - - - - - - 3£> 

Rainy Afternoon, - - - . 41 

Sunset, - - - - - 42 



CONTENTS. 

ESSAYS. 

Poetry, - - - - - 45 

The Death of the Flowers, - - - 52 

Ancient and Modern Tragedy, - - 54 

England under the Kule of the Regicides, - 63 

Little Failures, - - - - 75 

Drifting with the Tide, - - - 78 

The First Stroke is Half the Battle, - 80 

Rests in the Journey of Life, - - - 82 

Legitimacy, - - ' - - - 84 

Customs, - • - - - - 83 

Influence of the Church upon Civilization, from 

Fifth to Twelfth Century, Inchisive, - 90 

Rectitude, - - - - - - 94 

Causation, - - - - - 97 

Political Economy, - - '[- - - lOO 

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LATIN. 

From tlie ^neid, - - - - 114 

Dido's Entreaty to ^neas, - - - no 

From Tucitus, - - - - - ng 



PREFACE. 



Alia Hubbard Spencer was born in 
Henry County, Missouri, Jul}^ 3rd, 1860 ; 
died in Collin County, Texas, Decem- 
ber 1st, 1889, aged 29 years 4 months 
and 28 days. 

Doctor Moses Hubbard and Mary 
Jane Hubbard (iiee Sutton) the de- 
ceased's parents, settled in Collin 
County, Texas, in the fall of 1866, she 
then being six years of age. Her edu- 
cation was begun and continued in the 
district school until her sixteenth year. 
During this period she evinced remark- 
able intellectuality, always standing in 



6 Preface. 

the front of her classes, and at the same 
time gaining and holding the respect 
and esteem of both teachers and pupils. 
In her sixteenth year she matriculated 
in Pritchett Institute, Glasgow, Mis- 
souri. This seat of learning offering 
free tuition during one collegiate year to 
the best qualified student entering from 
a district school, the deceased, after a 
rigid examination, received the honor. 
Her name was found on the roll of honor 
almost every month of the four years 
she attended the Institute. She grad- 
uated in the class of 1880, receiving 
with her diploma the degree of Mistress 
of Literature. Returning to her Texas 
home, she assisted in domestic duties, 
still devoting much time to the study of 
the masters of English literature. She 
was married to Dr. B. F. Spencer of 
Weston, Texas, December 16th, 1884. 
She was a devout Christian, having 



Preface, 7 

given her heart to Jesus in her four- 
teenth year, always manifesting a lively 
interest in religious and educational 
affairs. 

In her last moments she fully real- 
ized her situation, and, when near the 
end, expressed herself as being ready 
and willing to go, as it was God's will, 
still she regretted to leave her beloved 
husband and parents, relatives and 
friends. She stated in her last mo- 
ments that the greatest wish was that 
her husband might become a Christian, 
and solicited him repeatedly to meet 
her in heaven. The immediate cause of 
her death was pneumonia, yet she had 
suffered a long time from heart affection. 
She died childless. Her last words were, 
" And they rode into a cave and there 
found plenty of living water." She was 
the only child of her parents, who 
will receive the heart-felt sympathy of 



8 Preface, 

all who may become acquainted with 
their distressingly sad loss. 

Thus has gone out from "US another 
life, precious and sweet ; the memory of 
it will linger long in the minds of old 
and young who were so fortunate as to 
come within its influence. Its forces 
were silent, yet none the less potent. 
Its influence was exerted always for the 
right. The loss to society and to the 
church of such a life cannot be esti- 
mated. The world never had, and, I 
fear, never will possess enough of such 
lives. 

Her writings consist chiefly of poems 
and essays, none of which — owing to her 
diffidence — have been published. Her 
portfolio lies before me while I write, 
and I find it contains a scoTe or more of 
essays and poems in various stages of 
completion. At the request of her 
husband and parents, I have selected 



Preface, 9 

sixteen poems, four translations, and 
fourteen essays, as well worth preserv- 
ing in book form. A spirit of sweet 
sadness pervades all of the poems. The 
rhythm is especially fine, showing the 
true poetic ear. Her powers of imagina- 
tion and word-painting are also fine, and 
best of all, the sentiment is pure and 
lofty, and will touch a responsive chord 
in the heart of the appreciative reader. 

The essays and translations were writ- 
ten while attending the Institute at 
Glasgow, Missouri. She was yet a 
school-girl — and the reader must keep 
that in mind while perusing them. They 
are edifying and instructive ; and I am 
sure the candid reader will admit, after 
having read them, that his fund of 
knowledge concerning the subjects of 
which they treat, has been increased. 

It was the opinion of one of the gifted 
of earth — an accurate and benevolent 



10 Preface. 

observer of life — that suffering was 
essential to the rich development of 
female character. It is interesting to 
trace the influence of ph3'sical, and to 
some extent of mental, suffering on the 
character of Mrs. Spencer's writings. 
It may be truthfully stated that, for two 
years prior to her death, she had not 
enjoyed a day of perfect health. Her 
complaint was an affection of the throat, 
deemed by the medical fraternity in- 
curable. Her husband and father are 
both skilful practitioners, and she be- 
came acquainted with the nature of her 
complaint about one year and a half 
before her death. Shortly after that, in 
the months of August and September, 
1888, she wrote the greater number of 
the poems contained in this volume. 
They increase in pathos and beaut}^ as 
her sufferings increase. She wrote : 
A Summer in the Mountains^ at that 



Preface. 11 

time, in anticipation of a visit to the 
Rocky Mountains in hope of improving 
her health. It is like a song-burst 
from a caged bird on beholding the sun- 
light and blue sky and green trees — a 
hoping against hope. 

This little volume is sent forth as a 
souvenir to the many relatives and 
friends of Mrs. Spencer. May it call 
up afresh in their minds the many graces 
and charms of mind and heart with 
which she was so richly endowed. It is 
sent to the stranger to sing the soft, 
sweet songs, and utter the ennobling 
thoughts of her who is no longer of 
earth, with the hope that some life may 
be made better, more resigned, more 
worthy. 

J. R. DARNALL. 

Weston, Texas, 

I'eft., 24, 1890. 



Destiny, 13 



DESTINY. 

The fates forever ride 
Relentless side by side, 
And while they ride they spin 
Forever on a thread 
Of destiny. 

For some, like golden light, 
The thread is truly bright ; 
For others sombre-hued — 
Now coarse, now fine, they spin 
Witli changing mood. 

And, whatsoever kind 
Of thread the fates, we find, 
Have spun for us, we should 
It try to weave into 
A garment fair. 



14 Destiny, 

On judgment day we'll, clad 
In these, appear, and sad 
Indeed that knots should show 
Where we've allowed the thread 
Entangled grow. 



Partings, 15 



PARTINGS. 

*Tis sad that friends congenial found, 

Whose souls are linked unto my soul, 
And by most sacred ties are bound, 
Should ever know 

What 'tis to part. 
They come and go. 
How aches my heart ! 

Mayhap the rugged path of life 

Some other pathway joins, and we 
Pursue our way with joy, and strife 
We think is o'er. 

But soon we part 
To meet no more. 

How aches my heart ! 

Perhaps our paths will touch again 

To somewhere cross, and then diverge. 
And leave us lonely as we came. 



16 Partings, 

And thus we know 

What 'tis to part, 
To come and go 

With aching heart ! 

Congenial friends and thou found true 

We seldom find upon the road 
Of life, as we our way pursue ; 

Then how can we 

With lightness part? 

It cannot be. 

How aches my heart ! 



Eventide. 17 



EVENTIDE. 

'Tis now the hour of gloaming, 
And thick tlie shadows fall, 

And thoLiglit with fanc}^ roaming 
They seem of day the pall. 

And through the mists thick lying 
The village lights appear, 

And long has been the dying 
Of daylight, damp and drear. 

All day the clouds were lowering. 
And veiled from earth the sun, 

The gloom was overpowering. 
But now the day is done. 

The wind is softly sighing 
Among the tree-tops tall. 

And, through the darkness flying, 
I hear the night-bird's call. 

2 



18 I Would not Live this Life Again, 



I WOULD NOT LIVE THIS LIFE 
AGAIN. 

You ask if unto me 'twere given 
Then would I live this life again ; 

I think, 'tis scarcely worth the living 
Its sunlight marred with shades of 
pain. 

I've tasted not the dregs of sorrow, 
To me has Heaven been most kind, 

And I have trusted each to-morrow 
The richest blessings still to find. 

My deepest heart's desire is ever 
On me bestowed, and most benign 

Has fortune smiled on each endeavor 
Of this poor halting life of mine. 

But even life bestowed in fullness 
Has care, vexations not a few, 



I Would not Live this Life Again, 19 

And oft besides there's much of dullness 
With yet a better life in view. 

If here on earth our lives had ending, 
Had we no hope of better life, 

And unto that our footsteps tending, 
Then 'twere not well to live in strife. 

One-half this earth's in shadow ever 
And more than half of life is shade ; 

I hope for perfect life where never 
A shadow dark of pain is made. 



20 Jealousy. 



JEALOUSY. 

The green-eyed monster grim 
That wounds the human breast — 

Which has it cherished warm 
And brings a great unrest 

Instead of peace and deep 
Security most blest. 

The bane alike of home 
And nations, bane of king 

As well as peasant low. 
To this most horrid thing 

If shelter we allow 

We'll surely feel its sting. 

It will usurp the place 

Of every noble hope 
And aspiration high, 

And leave the soul to mope 
And, 'mid dark fears and doubts, 

Its onward way to grope. 



A Summer in the Mountains, 21 



A SUMMER IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

At last set free 

From busy care 
And happy, we 

Will breath the air 
Of mountains high — 
My love and I. 

The summer breeze 

Is not more free 
Among the trees 

Thau we will be 
Without a sigh 
My love and I. 

O'er rocks and hills 

We'll wander on 
At our own wills, 

From early dawn 
Till dark is nigh — 
My love and I 



22 A Summer in the Mountains, 

We'll rest upon 
The mossy slopes, 

And tell what's gone 
And fondest hopes 

Of by-and-by — 
My love and I. 

We side by side 

Have toiled for years, 

And we've been tried 
'Mid hopes and fears 

And found each true — 
Both I and you. 

And each has borne 
The other's care, 

And we have known 
Our joys to share 

So, till we die. 
My love and I. 

The days thus spent 
Will seem, when gone, 



A Summer in the Mountams. 23 

By Heaven lent 

To lead us on 
To home on high — 

My love and I. 



24 Midsummer Rain. 



MIDSUMMER RAIN. 

But late the clouds hung low 
And seemed of storms to tell ; 

The wind began to blow 

With wailing, desolate sound, 

That said not all was well. 

From leaden sky the rain 
In heavy drops fell fast. 

And thunder crashed amain, 
But like a passion burst 

Full soon the clouds had passed. 

Now clearest blue the sky, 
The sun is shining bright, 

And rain-drops sparkling lie 
Like diamonds on the grass 

In soft refulgent light. 



The World is Weary. 25 



THE WORLD IS WEARY. 

All human hearts grow weary, 

Weary of toil and tears, 
Of disappointments dreary, 

Doubting and restless fears ; 
Of ills and aching sorrow, 

Weary of want and strife, 
Of trusting a briglit to-morrow, 

To cheer a sombre life. 

The man of high ambition 

Wearies of earth's applause, 
And weary his condition — 

Greater by far the cause — 
If fails his life's endeavor 

Tiresome wealth will grow 
To those who've lacked it never. 

And weariness all know. 



The World is Weary, 

The world's aweary ever, 

Weary 'twill ever be, 
And hope there is here never 

Ending of pain to see ; 
But there's a promise given, 

Promise Divine, most blest, 
If rightly we have striven 

We'll have eternal rest. 



Midnight. 27 



MIDNIGHT. 

The time is that of midnight still, 
And grandly solemn is the hour. 

The wind now gently stirs the leaves 
Unseen, mysterious, its power. 

And now it sweeps majestic 'round 
The house with low and dismal moan 

Which sometimes rises to a shriek 
Then falls again to sob or groan. 

The trees before my window nod. 
And, bowing heads together, seem 

To talk and whisper ever o'er 

Some deep and truly secret scheme. 

Solemnity is now much increased 

By scream of some wild bird of night 

Which, like a soul disconsolate. 

Through darkest regions wings its 
flight. 



28 Midnight, 

The fevered pulse of care that throbbed 
Along the village streets by day 

To quiet soothed and cooled at last, 
And every trouble passed away. 

And as a fretful child is hushed 
Upon its nurse's patient breast, 

So on the breast of sable night 
At length has man consoling rest. 

He's soothed and comforted by sleep 

Of ailing man, restorative, 
By blessed sleep, a panacea 

For woes and ills of all who live. 

With loving, tender pity, stars 

Look down upon a sleeping world, 

A canopy of sin and doubt 

And ignorance around it furled. 

They pity man's condition dark. 

And strive to give with all their light 

Enlightenment to earth, and thus 
They make most glorious the night. 



Translated from the German. 29 

TRANSLATED FROM THE 
GERMAN. 

Long ago the Lord of Glory 
Lived on earth, a little child; 

He was gentle, he was holy, 
He was always kind and mild. 

He was cradled in a manger, 
Poor and humble was his bed. 

Jesus, who on earth a stranger 
Had not where to lay his head. 

When he came, the angels singing 
Told the shepherds of his birth, 

" Christ," they say, is come, he's bringing 
Joy and peace to men on earth ! 

Let us love him, let us fear him, 

Let us learn of him below ; 
Then in Heaven we shall see him, 

More of him we shall know. 



30 Summer Twilight, 



SUMMER TWILIGHT. 

The sun not long ago 

Went blushing out of sight, 
And shadows deeper grow 

While sunlight fades to-night. 

In distant western skies 
Faint traces yet are seen 

Of mellow sunset dyes 

The day and night between. 

Serene and peaceful hour 
When busy cares are o'er, 

It comes with restful power 
Unknown each day before. 

Adown the village street 
I children's voices hear 

Arising, clear and sweet. 
As music to my ear. 



Summer TivilighU 31 

A chorus rises nigh 

Of frogs down at the pond 
A merry-making high 

Of noisy discord found. 

Attention next is swayed 

By many varied note, 
By different insects made, 

Upon the air afloat. 

The mocking-bird now trills 
Above these sounds his song, 

A melody which thrills 

Our hearts the whole night long 

For now the moon is seen 

Above the rising hill, 
A moonlit-night-scene 

With praise his heart does fill. 

I hear with lonely cry 

A distant whip-poor-will, 
An owl to-hoos hard-by 

From treetops near the mill. 



32 Summer Twilight, 

At such a peaceful hour 

Discordant sounds do blend, 

As if some magic power 
A harmony could lend. 



Morning, 33 



MORNING. 

Gray streaks, as messengers 

To herald coming day, 
In oriental sky 

Are seen, so far away. 

Now nature's hushed in sleep 

Tlie silence is profound, 
And gently breathes the air 

On every object round. 

Aurora soon is queen, 

And dead is darksome night, — 
At once the scene is changed 

And radiant grows the light. 

A rosy splendor falls 

Oil all tlie landscape round, 
EiicliMiUnient lends to things 

Which mean nre sometimes found. 
3 



34 Morning, 

But soon deposed is she 

The gentle, peaceful queen,- 

On comes the king of day, 
Such pageant never seen. 

Before him comes in might 
A brilliant army grand, 

His forces numerous appear 
As grains of seashore sand. 



Midsummer. 35 

MIDSUMMER. 

The season now midsummer fair, 
The place our siinuy southern land, 

A rolling prairie stretches far, 

And swells into proportions grand. 

The sun sliines with relentless power, 

The feathery grasses slightly nod, 
And wilts and droops each flowering 
shrub 
That lifts its head above the sod. 

The drowsy housefly scarce disturbs 
The universal hush and peace. 

For once the mocking-bird has thought 
His wild and taunting lay to cease. 

O'er all the distant landscape lies 

A vibrant flood, both soft and bright, 

As if a magic power unseen 

Had covered all with molten light. 



3-6 Midsummer, 

The time an emblem fitting seems 
Of life's meridian timely come, 

The restless heart of earl}?- life 
Is soothed, and many battles won. 

'Tis now man halts a little while. 

His life well rounded seems com- 
plete, 

The promises of spring fulfilled 
And ripened into harvest meet. 

If aught of disappointment was — 

And Where's the life without its grief ? 

The soft and genial light affords 
In some degree a sweet relief. 



Mirage, 37 



MIRAGE. 

Oh ! the wind is hot and parching, 
And the sun is truly scorching, 
And burning sands in billows blow, 
Forever tossing to and fro. 

And the light around is glaring, 
And the sky above is staring. 
The pilgrim now so weary grows,* 
As through the burning heat he goes 

Oh ! the thirst within is raging, 
And no hope of its assuaging, 
Until the desert sands are crossed — 
He thinks ere this his life is lost. 

Now appears, far distant gleaming 

In the sun, a pure lake seeming. 

That mirrored palms which round it 

grow. 
Are seen from clearest depth below. 



^8 Mirage. 

And his courage now returning, 
But his soul within him burning, 
He strives again to hasten on 
But, lo ! the phantom lake is gone. 

So, in life we travel, hoping. 
Now in disappointments groping. 
Between extremes our way we wend 
And, fainting not, will reach the end. 



Music, 39 



MUSIC. 

Oh ! great intangible power 

That sways the human heart, 
And causes pulses to slow 

Or with a throb to start. 
Now low, now swelling grand, 

Now grave, and then most glad, 
A full emotion tide 

Pathetic now, and sad. 

The soul's own language true. 

And understood by soul 
Of every time and age and clime. 

From pole to pole. 
Resembling points it has 

To poetry, we say. 
But differs wide in this 

If not in other way : 



40 Music, 

The poet's language must 

Be known before his thought- 
The universal truth 

He tells — can meaneth aught. 
Encumbered thus by words, 

As soul by mortal coil, 
So poetry confined 

In fetters bound must toil. 

But disembodied souls 

Are like to music free, 
And why is music not 

The loosened soul of poetry? 
And thus, perchance, commune 

Immortal spirits blest, 
In strains of music sweet. 

Surpassing far our best. 



Bainy Afternoon, 41 

RAINY AFTERNOON. 

The morn awoke most fair, 
But nature's changed her dyes 

Of warm and yellow light 

For those of cheerless gray, 
And now a shadow lies 

On every thing in sight. 

A slow and steady rain 

Has fallen half the day, 
The landscape sadly weeps, 
And every singing bird 

Has ceased his cheerful lay — 
His hope is dead or sleeps. 

A wave of gloom has spread 

Its shadow over me, 
And darker grows the shore 
Which I must try to win 

Of doubts and fears a sea 
To cross, untried before. 



42 ' Sunset. 



SUNSET. 



This eve I watched the sunset — 

A sunset, radiant fair ; 
All cloudless was tlie sky 

And serenely clear the air. 

The sun neared the horizon, 
The clearest amber light 

Began to change to orange, 
The tints were rich and bright. 

The distant hilltops gilded 

And nearer woods were thrown 

In dark and purple shadows. 
And thus by contrast shown. 

And every moment rosier 
The sky became, and grew 

The shadows ever deeper 
In sombre gry and blue. 



Sunset. 43 

In bold relief all objects 

Were seen to stand in shade 

Against the sky now reddening 
As the sun a farewell bade. 

The red to purple deepened, 

And purple into gray, 
With promise of fair morrow 

The sunlight fades away. 

And may as briglit a promise 

Of happy morn appear 
For me, when life's sunset 

And night of death draw near. 



Essays, 45 



ESSAYS. 



POETRY. 



TiTE name poetry, in its ordinary ac- 
ceptation, may suggest those little stan- 
zas which fill the odd places and corners 
of our newspapers and magazines. There 
is frequently something really pleasing 
in these, and occasionally something so 
impressive as to be remembered, but 
they are usually soon lost and forgotten. 
Then poetry of the highest type must 
have a nobler, broader sphere ; other- 
wise we would not find so many grand 
old poems, which are read and univer- 
sally admired, from age to age. 

Poetry is the language of the imagi- 
nation, and arises from a vision of some- 



46 Essays, 

thing better and more exalted than what 
is realized in e very-day life. 

All poetical ideas do not become 
expressed in the form of poetry ; indeed, 
many a person has grand poetical 
thoughts which he is never able to com- 
municate to others. There are also 
many things which cannot be expressed, 
except in poetry. 

Rhythm is considered essential to 
poetry, because it appears to be the 
natural form of expression for highly 
imaginative ideas. 

Poetry appears to be of very early 
origin. Sacred history informs us that 
Moses — the first author now known to 
mankind — and the children of Israel 
sang praises to God when they were 
delivered from the hosts of Pharaoh. 
Not only do we know that they sang, 
but that song has been preserved 
through all of the intervening ages, and 



Essays, 47 

we may to-day read it for ourselves. 
This is the oldest masterpiece of poetic 
productions which we liave. 

The Greeks were an ingenious people 
and they endeavored to attribute the 
gift of poetry to their imaginary deities. 
With them Apollo was the god of poetry 
and was said to be attended by the nine 
muses, the daughters of Meinory. Traces 
of poetry are found in the literary annals 
of every nation. Poetry existed in some 
form, even amonof the rudest barbarians. 

The first poets sang their productions, 
in order to render them more impressive. 
We must remember that at this early 
period, only a favored few were able to 
read, and, had the poet not adopted some 
means of sounding his verses, the great 
mass of people would have remained in 
ignorance of their very existence. 

Pathos, sentiment and the emotions 
form the most common themes of the 



48 Essays. 

poets. Almost numberless bards have 
chosen as their subject the passion of 
love, while many others delight in thrill- 
ing descriptions of imaginary battles. 
Poetry is varied and nicely adapted to 
the sentiments of every class of people, 
There are several divisions of poetr3% 
each possessing its own peculiarity. 
Epic poetry describes heroic deeds and 
is of the most elevated character. His- 
tory has generally furnished the themes 
for this class of poetry. A historical 
event, in order to be worthy of an epic 
poem, must be such as to engage the 
attention of whole nations, and, since 
such events are comparatively few, the 
number of epic poems must also be 
limited. There are three great epic 
poems universally acknowledged to sur- 
pass all others. These are, " Iliad," 
"^neid" and " Paradise Lost." Elegiac 
poetry is alwa^^s characterized by sad- 



Essays. 49 

ness. Of this class the most widely 
known in our languuge is Gray's Elegy 
ill a Country Churchyard. 

Dramatic poetry has received much 
attention. Amoiigd ramatists, Shake- 
speare may justly be considered supe- 
rior. Yet there are those of Germany 
and France of no mean repute. 

Under the liead of lyric poetry, we 
find odes, hymns, psahns, and ballads. 
The odes of Pindar, Anacreon, and 
Horace form the models of the odes of 
modern times. In" English poetry, Col- 
lins' " Ode on Passion," and Dryden's 
on "St. Cecilia's Da}^" rank among 
the highest. 

The " Psalms " of David and of the 
other Hebrew poets bear a close resem- 
blance to the hymns of the present day. 

The balUid fully displays the tastes, 
habits and sentiments of the people 
among whom it is found. The influence 

4 



50 Essays. 

of the ballad upon the character of a 
nation is so great that some one has 
said : " I care not who makes the laws 
of a people, if I may make its ballads." 
Besides the kinds of poetry alread}^ men- 
tioned, there is didactic poetry, which 
rather intends to instruct than to please. 
Pastoral poetry, representing the shep- 
herd in his rural life ; and satiric poetry, 
decrying the faults of man. Modern 
satirists frequently confine themselves 
to exag-o'erated imitations of the satires 
of antiquity, but many have the true 
spirit of a satire in regard to its moral 
beauty, delicate irony and humor. There 
are also many poems of such a nature 
that they cannot be classed under any 
particular one of the divisions men- 
tioned, but appear to belong equally to 
two or three different classes. 

It is the end of poetry either to please 
or to instruct. It appears to be the 



Essays, 51 

chief aim of poetry to cause pleasure of 
an elevated or pathetic nature. It has 
been said : " Poetry combines the advan- 
tages of the art of design, and of music. 
Like the former, it retraces for the im- 
agination the picture of eternal objects ; 
like the latter, it expresses feeling in its 
inmost and profoundest nature. It adds 
to the clearness of thought ; it alone of 
the fine arts has the prerogative of pre- 
senting an event in all of its parts, as 
well as the complete course of action." 



62 Essays. 



THE DEATH OF THE FLOWEES. 

The saddest part of the year has come. 
The wailing winds have stripped the 
foliage from the trees, and the withered 
leaves lie heaped in the hollows of the 
groves. The song-birds have flown, the 
harsh " caw " of the crow from the tree- 
top only tends to render the melancholy 
days more dreary. The beautiful flow- 
ers, like many of the fair and good of 
our race, are lying low in their graves. 

The chill rain of November falls upon 
them, but does not call them back to 
life. It is true, many of our spring 
flowers were gone some time ago, but the 
hills and woods were still decked with 
many of the most lovely flowers, when 
the frost fell from the clear, cold heaveu 



Essays, 63 

anfci destroyed their vitality and bright- 
ness. The falling of the frost upon the 
flowers reminds us of the plague which 
falls upon man. When the mild, warm 
days of winter come, and the bee and 
the squirrel leave their winter home to 
enjoy the sunshine, the south wind will 
search for the fragrant flowers, but will 
no longer find them, either in the woods 
or by the stream. 

Once when one of earth's pure ones 
died we buried her among the withered 
leaves, for it was autumn, and we wept 
that she, so lovely, should have a life so 
short. Now, when I think of it, it does 
not appear so unsuitable that this beau- 
, tiful young friend should perish with 
the flowers. 



54 Essays, 



ANCIENT AND MODERN TRAGEDY. 

It is a fact that, while any literature 
in its infancy is lyrical, and later epical, 
it is most perfectly developed in the 
drama. In order that this highest type 
of literature may be cultivated with 
success, there are two conditions en- 
tirely indispensable: one, a national 
activity to inspire the dramatist with 
the sentiments requisite for this kind of 
a production, and the other, an appre- 
ciative public ready to receive tlie works 
when finished. Among the nations of 
antiquity, these conditions were best 
fulfilled in the Greeks, and it was with 
them that ancient tragedy reached its 
greatest perfection. It is probable that 
it was only through Grecian influence 



Essays, 55 

that tragedy appeared among tlie other 
peoples of that time. Since, among 
modern nations, the conditions essential 
to the growth and development of the 
drama have been most favorable in 
England, it is here that modern tragedy 
has best succeeded. The superiority of 
tlie Grecian and English drama cannot 
be attributed entirely to a national ac- 
tivity and an appreciative public, but 
much is due to the fact that eacli of 
them may boast a more perfect and 
complete range of literature than con- 
temporary nations. Then, it is clear 
why we take Greek tragedy to repre- 
sent the ancient, and English to repre- 
sent the modern drama. 

Tragedy originated in songs sung in 
praise of Bacchus, and at first consisted 
only of a chorus. After a while the 
poet himself accompanied the chorus 
and exchanged speeches with it, but it 



56 Essays, 

was not until the time of ^schylus, that 
a conversation was carried on by two 
actors. Sophocles added a third actor, 
and limited the functions of the chorus. 
By undergoing such changes as these, 
tragedy has developed into a thing so 
different from what it was at first, that 
we see in it but few traces of its origin. 
No art is more influenced by surround- 
ings than the drama. Then, in order to 
fully understand ancient tragedy, it is 
necessary to consider the Grecian stage, 
or rather, that of Athens, since this 
was the model of the Grecian theatre. 
It was for this place that all pla3^s of 
importance were written. At Athens 
there was but one theatre, and it was 
well attended by all classes and supported 
at public expense. In this the people 
took a special pride. Actors were not 
then, as afterwards, regarded with pity 
or contempt, but it was considered 



Essays. 57 

honorable to be in any way connected 
with the profession. Even the con- 
struction and situation of the Athenian 
stage hirgely influenced tragedy. The 
building was a great stone edifice, front- 
ing the sea, and without a covering, 
some of the grandest pieces of archi- 
tecture and sculpture which the city of 
Athens contained were in sight. Ref- 
erence to these or to objects in nature, 
was quite natural, and could be made 
without scenic representation, since at 
that time all plays were rendered in 
daylight. Actors wore masks, heavy 
training robes and high-heeled buskins. 
They maintained a majestic air, and did 
but little acting. Their style of dress 
would not permit violent gesticulation, 
had such a thing not been beneath their 
dignity. Nothing that required rapid 
movement appeared upon the stage, but 
the play was related in a narrative style 



58 Essays, 

by a messenger. His speeches were 
frequently long, and allowed the poet 
range for beautiful and vivid description. 
They were nearly always pathetic and 
exciting. Tiie chorus, so important at 
first, always retained a place in ancient 
tragedy. It sang at irregular intervals, 
governed entirely by the subject and 
the occasion. The Greek drama allowed 
no change of time and place, and was 
an uninterrupted representation. This 
strict observance of the rules of unity, 
rendered the stage unnatural, and gave 
it a peculiar stiffness. There is a free- 
dom about the modern stage altogether 
foreign to the Grecian. There is a 
frequent change of place, and great art 
is displayed in scenery, which, under the 
influence of gaslight, closely imitates 
nature. Actors now suit their dress to 
the part they render, and never hesitate 
to perform any act that ordinary life or 



Esmys. 59 

human nature dictates. The tragedy 
of the ancients was mystic and studied, 
while that of tlie present is passionate 
and more natural. 

Sculpture was tlie art of the Greeks, 
as music is that of modern times, and it 
is true that ancient tragedy beai-s the 
same relation to sculpture that modern 
tragedy bears to music. Tlie one is to 
us a real thing, well finished and com- 
plete in itself. The other appeals to 
the imagination alone, is unlimited, and, 
while it awakens desires and long^inors, 
passes away, leaving us but partially 
satisfied. The Greeks were content 
with perfection within definite limits, 
while people of the present have an 
ideal perfection as their standard. The 
ancients follow their personages far 
enough to determine what the future is 
to be, but, in modern traofedv, curiosity 
and expectation are frequently raised to 



66 lissdys, 

the highest pitch, and the play suddenly 
dropped, leaving the imagination to 
supply what is wanting. Even if there 
were no other differences between 
ancient and modern tragedy, tlie great 
dissimilarity in their subjects would be 
sufficient to cause tliem to be quite 
unlike. The ancients treated sublime 
subjects, and had but little to do with 
the affairs of e very-day life. They per- 
sonified, the ideal and represented the 
gods and heroes in their relations to 
men and to each other. They adhered 
closely to legends, and from these 
drew all of their material. Popular 
opinion would not allow the poet to take 
a subject outside of these old myths, but 
confined him to purely religious themes. 
Modern tragedians have a broad range 
of subjects, and feel themselves at per- 
fect liberty to use any material that pre- 
sents itself. Not only were the ancients 



Essays, 61 

confined to a certain class of subjects, 
but each play must teach the same les- 
son of a retributive justice. Our trage- 
dians have never had a common central 
thought to bring out. They had not felt 
it their duty to present any special moral 
or religious principle. In fact they have 
hardly aimed to teach anytliing. Tlieir 
object has been to paint nature, to rep- 
resent all shades of human character 
and to exhibit life in its various phases. 
Beyond this they have hardly had an 
object. Even the most moral have not 
endeavored to ennoble human life, but to 
represent it as they find it. 

But the crowning^ difference between 
ancient and modern tragedy is in the 
treatment of female character, for woman 
played rather an insignificant part in the 
ancient drama. Her character was 
usually slightly drawn, or some one 
point of it brought out with great clear- 



62 Essays, 

ness and the other elements necessary to 
make up a natural woman left untouched. 
We may account for this by the fact that 
the Grecian woman lived in the strictest 
retirement, with little social life, and she 
consequently had bat small opportunity 
to develop character as we understand ' 
the term. As woman now occupies a 
high plane in social life, so she is prom- 
inent in the drama, and it is tlie aim of 
our authors to correctly delineate female 
character, and ability to do this is re- 
garded as the highest exponent of the 
true artist. 



Essays. 63 



ENGLAND UNDER THE RULE OF THE 
REGICIDES. 

Rarely in the history of any nation has 
thei'e been known such a state of con- 
fusion as overspread England at the 
middle of the seventeenth century. The 
news of the fearful death of Charles I. 
had spread far and wide, sending a thrill 
of horror to the heart of every true 
royalist. When the king was beheaded 
all authority by which the kingdom had 
been governed, both civil and ecclesias- 
tical was dissolved, and for a time the 
whole nation, apparently, was without 
any government; each man set himself 
to work to carry out his own idea of a 
republic with a distinct mode of govern- 
ment and a separate system of religion. 



64 Essays. 

When this state of affairs had continued 
for a few months the people dechired 
they would thenceforth be governed as 
a Commonwealth and a free state. 

The Parliament now held the sover- 
eignty which had so recently been taken 
from the King, and exercised it most 
tyrannically. An oath of fidelity Avas im- 
posed upon the citizens, all who refused 
to take it being excluded from tlie courts 
of justice. 

Those who had in any way sided with 
the king were not only debarred from 
holding office, but ev^en from voting. 
Parliament acknowledged that all au- 
tliority was taken from the people, but 
professed an intention of restoring it as 
soon as the country became more settled. 
The army, consisting of fifty thousand 
men, did not like the aspect of affairs. 
They had been fighting for liberty, and 
it was not probable that they would sub- 



Essays, 65 

mit all power to Parliament ; so, on one 
memorable morning a party of veterans, 
at the command of Cromwell, quietly 
took their places before the assembled 
Parliament, with fixed bayonets, stood 
immovable while Cromwell ordered the 
members to depart, " in the name of 
God." It is needless to say they went. 
Up to this time Cromwell had acted 
as mediator between Parliament and the 
army, but after this extreme measure he 
joined tiie latter and sent a summons to 
certain Puritan notables and formed the 
little Parliament, wittily called the 
"Barebones Parliament," yet in spite of 
the odium it incurred, it did all the 
routine business of a Parliament in quite 
a superior manner. With this Parlia- 
ment under his thumb, the good-will of 
the soldiery, which he had managed to 
retain, although broke with nearly every 
other class of men, it was not long be- 

5 



66 ' Essays. 

fore he had full control under title of 
Protector. He gave England a new 
constitution as near like that of the mon- 
archy as the army would permit. After 
a time he considered it safe to advance 
further, and in a few years he had nearly 
restored the old system, but under new 
names. 

He made good treaties, and received 
congratulatory embassies from France 
and Spain. His powerful arm was felt 
throughout all England. Laws were not 
violated, and the nation enjoyed a great- 
er degree of peace and security than it 
had for many years ; the only source of 
disquietude being conspiracies that were 
frequently formed against the Protector 
and his government. Knowing of these 
plots he warded them oif by his watch- 
fulness, his sternness, his rigor in influenc- 
ing: the lower class, and succeeded in 
ruling England for several years. Be- 



Essays. 67 

ing allowed to name his successor he 
left his office at his death to his son. 

Richard Cromwell entered upon his 
new work under apparently favorable 
circumstances. For about six months 
things went peaceably, and his govern- 
ment was thought to be about settled, 
when Parliament arose and took it from 
him. The army rebelled, and again 
rendered Parliament submissive. The 
sovereignty was finally restored to Par- 
liament by General Monk, on condition 
that the young king should occupy his 
throne. Nearly all England rejoiced at 
this movement, and now, twelve years 
after Charles I. was beheaded, his son, 
Charles II., was proclaimed king. The 
three predominant political parties, dur- 
ing the Protectorate were the Royalists, 
Presbyterians and Independents. The 
Royalists, consisting of men of nobility, 
had been plundered of their property 



68 Essays. 

and all authority had been taken from 
them, therefore they were filled with 
hatred and resentment towards the new 
form of government, and always con- 
tinued firmly attached to the son of 
their unfortunate Monarch ; many fol- 
lowed him into foreign lands, and those 
who remained in England, although op- 
pressed and allowed no participation in 
the government of their country, sliowed 
no subjection to Cromwell, and always 
affected a superiority to the usurpers. 

The Presbyterians were supporters of 
the Parliament at first ; but, as their cun- 
ning associates used them as tools and 
gave them no fruits of their successful 
labor, they became much enraged and 
determined to enlist themselves on the 
side of the Royalists, but they had to 
overcome many prejudices before they 
could become supporters of the family 



Essays, 69 

of the Stuarts, which had so grievously 
offended them. 

The Independent party, at the head 
of which was Cromwell, had supreme 
control of affairs, and was supported 
almost entirely by the army, which still 
had a large share of power in his hands, 
although at many times those " arrogant 
troopers" appeared in immediate dan- 
ger of a fall, for the soldiers liad only 
learned a few rules of military obedi- 
ence, and knew nothing of the subordi- 
nation of citizens. It was through the 
influence of Cromwell that any stability 
or order was maintained among them. 
No social intercourse was kept up, and 
no marriages contracted between the 
Royalists and the Independents. 

While religious persecution was less 
than at any time since the Reformation, 
nevertheless it was far greater than 
consistency would lead us to suppose, 



70 JEssays, 

when we remember that the same men 
who had usurped the power had for 
half a century previously, devoted them- 
selves to the cause of religious liberty, 
and had claimed freedom of conscience 
as the basis of the Christian religion. 
The unfortunate Roman Catholics were 
scarcely considered suitable beings to 
come within the range of Christian char- 
ity. It seems that no torture could be 
devised too cruel for them. Many were 
banished, others imprisoned or cruelly 
put to death. Presbyterianism, the 
leading denomination, enjoined much 
religious freedom, and toleration, but 
was frequently disturbed by doubts and 
suspicions. Those religious sects, which 
were on the victorious side, had peace 
and prosperity, and the Jews, whose 
worship had not been tolerated for four 
centuries, were permitted to build a 
synagogue in London. 



Essays. 71 

Charles I. had done much for the ad- 
vancement of the fine arts, traces of 
which yet remained. Cromwell, though 
in many respects a barbarian, possessed 
some degree of taste for literature, and 
endeavored to encourage rather than 
suppress it, though he was a fearful 
iconoclast concerning everything that 
pertained to the licentious French school, 
the works of which Charles I. had in- 
troduced in England. 

During the Protectorate the govern- 
mental expenses of England were great- 
er than under the rule of any of the 
Stuarts. Notwithstanding heavy taxes 
were levied without the consent of the 
commons, at the death of Cromwell the 
nation was burdened with debt. Yet, 
Cromwell had been successful in all his 
wars, which, through necessity, he had 
undertaken, and was feared and re- 
spected at home and abroad. He was 



72 Essays. 

severe, ambitious and energetic. When 
Charles I. was beheaded he lifted the head 
by tlie hair to make sure that it was 
severed from the body, and, holding it in 
his hand, coldly remarked; '' That body 
was well formed and promised a long 
life." Cromwell aspired to royalty, and 
as he never found anything too difficult 
to be accomplished, it is probable that, 
through his ambition and untiring en- 
ergy, he would have obtained even this, 
had his life been prolonged. During 
the Protectorate he was apparently ty- 
rannical, but many attribute to him in his 
seeming cruelty, worthy motives and an 
earnest desire to benefit his nation, and 
had he lived a little longer, he would, 
perhaps, have left England in a far bet- 
ter condition. His over-taxed strength 
failed before more was accomplished, 
and we may not say whether his inten- 
tions were good or bad. A storm which 



Essays, 73 

tore roofs from houses and leveled huge 
trees in every forest, seemed a fitting 
prelude to the passing away of his 
mighty spirit. On the third of Septem- 
ber, the day which had witnessed his 
victories of VVorchester and Dunbar, 
Cromwell quietly breathed his last." 

While the purity of his intentions 
may be very justly questioned, we can- 
not say England is worse to-day for his 
rule and influence. The works of Crom- 
well are shown forth in that afterwards 
the rights of men were faithfully re- 
spected and the divine right of kings 
not so rigorously insisted upon. Kings 
sjoverned with the death warrant of 
Charles I. before them, and took care 
not to rule their subjects as mere ^'^^ 
of the crown. England's Puritr 
which, as long as Cromwell live 
never bowed to any power, at V 
perished? never to be resurrect 



74 Essays. 

the incoming of Charles IT. anarchy 
crept in ; the rebound was immense, and 
it was only after long years of darkness 
that the English people were able to 
look back to Cromwell as one of the 
prime actors in the glorious destiny of 
the English nation. 



Essays, 75 



LITTLE FAILURES. 

It appears that the great failures of 
our lives bear with them less evil than 
those numerous little failures which are 
universally tolerated. When a person is 
guilty of a failure in regard to a great 
thing, he becomes publicly censured and 
there is hope that he will amend his 
course. The case is different when the 
failure is a little one. It sometimes es- 
capes notice altogether, or is considered 
of too little importance to demand the 
attention of any one. For this reason 
one becomes a person of fixed habits 
without having corrected his little fail- 
ures. His friends have indulged his 
careless habits, and he goes on through 
life, failing in the same things day after 
day. 



76 Essays. 

As a general thing, you will find little 
failures the result of tliouglitlessness or 
of careless habits, rather tlian of any 
evil design. We fail to do a tliousand 
-little things which would add to the 
pleasure of others, and increase ourowia 
happiness, simply because we do not 
think of doing them. 

Little failures are not only wrong in 
themselves, but they frequently lead to 
greater things. There are numerous 
cases to remind one of the old story of 
a "horse-shoe lost for the want of a 
nail, and a horse lost for the want of a 
shoe." 

When people find that little failures 
have led to some great evil, some will 
spend much time in lamenting the fact 
that such a result was not prevented, 
while others will keep reiDcating " I saw 
that long ago," or " Just as I told you." 
However, no reform is brought about by 



Essays. 77 

either class. When the failure has 
ceased to be a subject of gossip it is for- 
gotten, and the world moves on just as 
before. 



78 Essays, 



DEIFTING WITH THE TIDE. 

It appears strange that in such a busy 
world as ours there shouki be any who 
are content not to take an active part in 
life and strive to accomplish some great 
object. But if we only look around, we 
will find a class of people — and the class 
is surprisingly large — who appear to be 
drifting, as it were, along the great tide 
of life in the most careless manner. 
There are many persons who attend 
various places of amusement, not that 
they enjoy it, but because it is fashion- 
able. They go to church because other 
people go, and they do not like to be odd. 
And thus they enter society in all its 
various forms, not to profit by it or 
because it affords them any particular 



Essays. 79 

pleasure, but simply because it is cus- 
tomary. Very frequently such persons 
appear much dissatisfied with the world, 
and think it a dull thing to live. 

They are often envious of others who 
really enjoy themselves, but at the same 
time they make no effort to stop drifting 
and go to rowing and accomplish some- 
thing which would make them liappy. 
Many, however, drift along very smooth- 
ly for a while, but, sooner or later, storms 
arise, and when adversity's cold winds 
are howling about them they know not 
what to do, for they have never borne any 
of the hardships of life and what can they 
do now, in the midst of trials? They 
bewail their fate, but all to no purpose, for 
soon their light boat is wrecked and they 
perish. They are not missed, for they 
have never done anything for the world, 
and that they ever existed is soon for- 
gotten. 



80 Essays. 



THE FIEST STROKE IS HALF THE 
BATTLE. 

Students frequently realize that " The 
first stroke is half the battle," when 
essays are required of them. They often 
spend much time in trying to find a sub- 
ject worthy of their attention, or more 
frequently one upon which they are able 
to write ; however, the subject being 
cliosen and the essay begun, their task is 
soon accomplished. In fact it is more 
than half done, for the composition of 
the ordinary school boy or girl is not vei-y 
long, and a comparatively short time is 
spent in writing it. 

The saying : " The first stroke is half 
the battle," is equUy true in regard to 
greater undertakings. A thing may be 
most difficult to accomplish and require 



Essays. 81 

many long and tiresome hours or years ; 
still, when all plans are formed and the 
first stroke made, it may well be consid- 
ered half accomplished. 

History iiffords numerous examples of 
great enterprises which one might call 
luilf completed, wlien only the first 
stroke was made. The battle of Colum- 
bus was certainly luilf fought when lie 
set sail towards the New World. 

At this age of advanced civilization, it 
appears that a determination and a 
beginning will bring about most wonder- 
ful results, however visionary the attempt 
may at first seem. 

6 



82 Essays, 



RESTS IN THE JOUENEY OF LIFE. 

The journey of life is usually repre- 
sented as being up the side of a steep 
and rugged hill. True enough, parts of 
this hill may be decidedly unattractive, 
yet there are places where one may 
stop to rest and look down at the parts 
of the road already passed over. How 
truly has it been said, " There is many a 
rest in the road of life ; if we would only 
stop to take it." We may compare the 
rests in life to the rests in music. Each 
week brings a day of rest, which, in con- 
nection with our holidays, may be com- 
pared to the whole note-rests in music. 
Our moments of recreation and time 
spent in social enjoyment constitute the 
shorter rests. 



Essays, 83 

The rests appear to be few in the 
lives of some people, especially those 
leading active business lives. Yet there 
are times when any one may leave off 
business, and have a few hours of quiet 
meditation or enter into a pleasant con- 
versation with some friend. 

There are times in the life of every 
one Avhen the great responsibilities 
which commonly weigh heavily appear 
to vanish, and all cares are for the time 
forgotten. 

Life demands activity, but it equally 
demands rests, and if these are rightly 
improved one is able to enter heartily 
again upon the duties which arise before 
him. 



84 Essays. 



LEGITIMACY. 

Legitimacy is commonly regarded as 
lawfulness, but this cannot be the true 
meaning of the word when applied to 
government ; for it would be absurd to 
say a legitimate government is one which 
is not prohibited by law, since govern- 
ment itself consists of law and regula- 
tions. Political legitimacy is considered 
to be a right founded upon length of 
duration, for priority is pleaded as a 
source of right. 

All of the various systems of civiliza- 
tion claim for themselves legitimacy of 
government. Absolute right to legit- 
imacy has been contended for, by the 
school of civilians, the advocates of 
monarchy, the republicans, and by the 



Essays, 85 

Church of Rome. One of the chief char- 
acteristics of each of these systems is to 
diQwy violence as the source of authority, 
and to associate its origin with a notion 
of justice and morality. Violence truly 
gives rise to a government, but man is 
desirous of order and justice, and is 
never satisfied until he sees these pre- 
dominate. For this reason he naturally 
introduces morality and legitimacy into 
the government in wliich he lives. For 
some time it has been customary among 
political writers of the Continent of 
Europe to regard monarchy as the only 
form of legitimate government. This 
^ however, is certainly a mistake, since a 
t certain degree of legitimacy may be 
found in any form of government. 

The most legitimate government is, 
probably, the one which is most firmly 
established in regard to its laws and 
regulations. 



86 Essays. 



CUSTOMS. 

When I say customs I mean the habits 
of our race, more particuLirly those of 
tlie American people. Many of the 
habits or customs are worthy of much 
higher praise than a school-girl can 
bestow upon them ; yes, many of them, 
are worthy of being described and praised 
by the most flowery and logical orators of 
the day. A little below this class we find 
many of our customs are notparticuhirly 
meritorious of plaudit, while at the same 
time are not so low as to demand any 
censure or condemnation. By going a 
step lower we find many that should be 
amended. If our customs and changes 
were founded upon sound logical reason- 
ing, if they were rigidly scrutinized by 



Essays, 87 

the most brilliant iuid penetrating intel- 
lects of the day, and such as would be 
deemed non-essential were rejected, tliere 
would be quite a revolution in many re- 
spects. Mechanics are rapidh^ changing 
the style of the utensils which they 
manufacture, but their changes are 
always improvements or intended for 
improvements. No piece of machinery 
is ever laid aside until something else is 
invent( d wliich better supplies its place. 
The same is the case with the sciences. 
Discoveries are continuallv beiiiof made 
in tli^se as well as in all other things. 
But they must always undergo a thor- 
ough examination and rigid scrutiny 
before they are admitted as useful, and 
even then, unless thev are considered 
better than anything of the kind which 
has been before discovered they are not 
likely to be regarded. But we find this 
is not the case in man} other customs, 



88 Essays, 

more particularly the popular fashions 
of dress. They change quarterly, and 
sometimes oftener, without regard to any 
advantage that can be shown, except the 
pecuniary gain to the manufacturer and 
vender of the new attire, which is to be 
substituted for that which is not more 
than half worn. Would it not be well if 
fashions were put to the same scrutiny be- 
fore they are adopted — comfort, neatness 
and convenience being studied? One 
great reason that customs in regard to 
fashions change so frequently is, that 
the aristocratic and wealthy class are 
endeavoring to reach a point beyond 
which the poor cannot follow ; while, 
on the other hand, the common class are 
constantly striving to keep up. Now if 
this class were to adopt a rule of their 
own, and imitate such as were actual 
improvements, rejecting all others, they 
would act upon a principle that would 



Essays, 89 

soon reduce fashion to a science, and by 
this means have not only the honor, but 
the most exquiste delight in seeing the 
other class following their example. 
Then would our fashions in dress, like 
all other sciences (for it would then be 
a science), be based upon sound judg- 
ment and take an important place in the 
annals of history. When we observe 
the great development and wonderful 
improvements of the nineteenth century 
we fancy the customs of fashions will 
soon be taken up by scientific minds and 
developed, as many other perhaps more 
important, but not more attractive, cus- 
toms. 



90 Essays, 



INFLUENCE OF THE CHURCH UPON CIV- 
ILIZATION, FROM FIFTH TO TWELFTH 
CENTURY INCLUSIVE. 

Ill order to comprehend the influence 
of the Church upon civilization we must 
fully understand its conditions with re- 
gard to its internal affairs, its relation 
Avith temporal rulers, and with the peo- 
ple. At the fall of the Roman Empire, 
the Church appeared as an organized 
body, full of influence and vigor. She 
had reached the summit of lier hopes, 
since she considered paganism and 
heresy banished from her presence. Let 
us examine her government. Govern- 
ment, in order to be legitimate, must 
have authority situated in the hands of 
the most worthy, and the authority must 
respect the liberties of the people. Since 



Essays. 91 

the Church was a corporation, and not a 
caste, she was supposed to be governed 
by the most worthy. However, she 
extended her authority unlawfully, and 
so her government could not be legiti- 
mate in this respect. She denied to 
individuals the right of reason and as- 
sumed for herself the right of compelling 
persons to do as she wished. The 
Church converted the barbarians by 
whom she was surrounded, and then 
undertook to re-establish the Empire. 
She called on the barbarian kings to 
enter into the same relations with lier 
that had existed between tlie Church 
and the Roman Empire. It was impos- 
sible to form a Roman Emj^ire of bar- 
barians, so the Church, to save herself, 
drew a distinction between temporal 
and spiritual power. When this was 
done, a desire of libert}^ grew into a 
desire of power, and the spiritual power 



92 Essays. 

undertook to govern the world. She 
probably undertook this, because she 
found herself in possession of nearly all 
the intelligence of the age, and because 
of the violence and iniquity which pre- 
vailed in the temporal order. 

When we consider the Church in her 
relation to the people, Ave cannot fail to 
notice the great vice of separating the 
government from the governed, and 
allowing the governed no legal influence 
upon their government. Yet the peo- 
ple were not without influence. When 
there was an advancement in religious 
matters this bore along the laity and 
clergy together, and in this way the 
people acted upon the Church. 

The Church gave herself but little 
trouble about individual development. 
She endeavored to soften the harsh man- 
ners of the great, and to render them 
more just and kind toward their infe- 



Essays, 93 

riors. She aJso made an effort to intro- 
duce a life of moralit}' among the laity. 
What she did in the way of intellectual 
improvement was confined to her own 
interests. Her schools and colleges were 
all purely theological. 

Her labors for the improvement of the 
social state were greater and more pow- 
erful. She struggled zealously with the 
great vices of society. 

We may now sum up the influences of 
the Church upon civilization by saying 
that she had great and good influence 
upon the moral and intellectual condi- 
tion, while her influence upon the poli- 
tical condition was rather hurtful. 



94 Essays, 



EECTITUDE. 

It is a cognition of what is right, i.e., 
of what is one's duty. 

According to some authors the cogni- 
tion of rectitude is intuitive in all 
simple cases. It is mediate only when 
the case is a complex one. Our Teacher 
thinks the cognition of rectitude is never 
intuitive in the actions of others, and 
we are liable to error in regard to our 
own cognitions. He is not certain that 
we intuitively cognize the rectitude of 
our own actions. 

God's law. Some say that sucli 
things as tend to promote happiness are 
right, and those are wrong which tend 
to produce misery. They affirm that 
right and wrong consist in producing 



Essays. 95 

happiness or misery. Our author says, 
it is true, that doing right produces 
liappiness, but it does not consist in 
producing happiness. He says if it is 
our duty to do right, and to do right is 
to obtain the greatest happiness, and if 
a person can obtain the greatest happi- 
ness by serving the Devil, then it is our 
duty to serve him. This appears logical. 

The finite mind cannot always tell 
what actions will produce the greatest 
happiness or misery. God has given the 
standard in his law, and he only demands 
things which tends to happiness. 

God has commanded it, and He is too 
wise to command anything which is not 
fur the best. Some say because God 
commands it and He is our Creator. 
But had our Creator been an evil being 
and commanded things which are wrong, 
then we would not be under obligation 
to obey Him. It consists in doing such 



96 Essays. 

things as we, with the very best light we 
can obtain, cognize to be our duty. 

A perfect moral law demands nothing 
which is impossible. 

If one's intentions are pure, and, for 
some cause over which he has no control, 
he cannot do as he wishes, he deserves 
as much credit for the intention as 
though lie had put it into execution. 
Or, if he does a thing through ignorance 
which would be wrong under other cir- 
cumstances, he is not to blame, if he has 
made the proper effort to know what 
his duty is. If he is willfully ignorant 
he is not excusable for doing wrong. 



Essays* 97 



CAUSATION. 

A cause is that which can produce 
a change. An effect is that which is 
produced by some cause. 

If it was the result of experience it 
would not operate at such an early 
period in the existence of individuals 
and of society. 

We could not account for the uni- 
formity of an opinion of individuals, 
however different their surroundings. 
We could not account for the funda- 
mental and necessary character of judg- 
ment. It is the result of intuitive cog- 
nition. 

In antecedence and consequence there 
is no idea of power. A consequence 
does not necessaril}^ always follow the 



98 Essays, 

same antecedent. A cause has power 
in it which produces the consequence. 
When a spark is applied to gunpowder 
anexplosion is produced. The explosion 
is a necessity. 

Mill thinks the law of causality is not 
cognized intuitively, but is the result of 
experience. He thinks the law is true 
as far as this world is concerned, because 
observation has shown it to be so. He 
thinks there may be some place where 
things follow each other at random. 

Brown says when we speak of cause 
and effect we have in our minds no other 
idea than that of antecedence and con- 
sequence. Dr. Hickok says of Brown, 
that he evidently wished to exclude the 
idea of necessity from his analysis. 

Wilson says when we speak of a power 
in an object to produce a change in 
another object and a susceptibility of 
change in that object we have more than 



Essays. 99 

a belief that such things have taken 
place and will take place. We perceive 
that there is something in the nature of 
the objects which renders the change a 
necessity. 

Hamilton says when we say a thing is 
an effect we only say that it has formerly 
existed under another form. He says 
causation is the result of our inability 
to conceive of an absolute beginning 
or end. 

Kant assumes that the phenomenal 
consequences are real and the substances 
of which these are qualities cannot be 
known to human intelligence. He says 
our notion of causation is a conception 
of the mind. 



100 Essays, 



POLITICAL ECOKOMY. 

1. Political economy is the science of 
exchanges or it is that division of social 
science which treats of the production of 
wealth, so as to best gratify the desires 
of men. 

A science is the systematic arrange- 
ment of true definitions and principles 
educed from and applied to any branch 
of learning or phenomena. Wealth or 
property is any useful product of labor 
which may be appropriated and ex- 
changed. 

Value is purchasing power with refer- 
ence to any commodity whatever. For- 
merly there was considered to be two 
kinds of value, one the exchangeable 
value or what is now called value, and the 



Essays, 101 

other serviceable value, which is now 
called utility. Then utility is the 
amount of service a thing will render. 

Price is purchasing power expressed 
in terms of money. 

Capital is wealth used in production. 
Money is any useful product of labor 
which is used as a standard of value and 
to facilitate exclianges. 

2. Man has many and various desires 
to gratify. In order that man may gratify 
his various desires and cause nature to 
bring forth her hidden resources he must 
labor. By labor comes the exclusive 
right of property. With the right of 
property comes the right of exchange. 

It was formerly understood that 
money alone constituted wealth. It was 
the policy of nations to procure all the 
money they could and allow no money 
to pass out. 

It is a mistake to consider that any 



102 Essays, 

natural or acquired ability is wealth, for 
this cannot be exchanged. It is an error 
to think that all wealth is tangible. Our 
Author thinks (but our Teacher does not 
agree with him) it is an error to consider 
notes, U. S. bonds, etc., as wealth. 

3. Supply is the amount of a thing in 
the market, or which is ready to be ex- 
chaiwed. Demand for an article is the 
desire there is for it taken in connection 
with the ability of persons to purchase 
it. A monopoly is a legal restriction 
placed upon the sale of certain articles. 

Value increases directly as demand, 
and inversely as supply. 

Production, consumption, distribu- 
tion, exchange : — 

4. Labor is any voluntary exertion of 
human beings put forth to attain some 
desired object. There are two kinds, 
physical and mental. Physical labor 
alone can only produce motion. Mental 



Essays, 103 

labor investigates, discovers, and directs 
motion or manages. They are nearly 
alwaj^s used together. It is not correct 
to make such a distinction as productive 
and unproductive labor. All labor is 
intended to be productive, and, if it fails 
to be so, it is only on account of some 
failure on the part of the labor or some 
fault in machinery or something of the 
kind. Changes effected by labor are 
transmutation, transformation, and trans- 
portation. The first changes the ele- 
mentary form of matter ; the second, 
the aggregate form, the third changes its 
place. 

5. Division of labor illustrated by a 
loaf of bread. If we examine the in- 
gredients of the bread we find they come 
from various sources. Then, if we con- 
sider any one of the ingredients, as the 
flour, we find a diversity of labor em- 
ployed in its production. We go to the 



104 Essays, 

mill where it is ground and find various 
workmen. We find the mill and 
machinery require many kinds of labor, 
carpenters, masons, etc., etc. Then, to 
go farther, we find that the farmer em- 
ployed various kinds of labor in the pro- 
duction of the wheat itself. An Indian 
woman may raise her corn and beat it 
up and bake a cake in the ashes, but how 
inferior this bread is, and what a vast 
amount of labor she bestows upon a 
single cake of bread. In the former case 
the bread is, by division of labor, pro- 
duced with but little labor to any one. 

Division of labor implies analysis of 
the process and distribution of different 
kinds of labor involved in the process. 
It shortens apprenticeship ; saves time 
in passing from one ICnd of labor to 
another ; saves time in adjusting com- 
plicated tools ; skill and dexterity are 
acquired ; suggests inventions ; gives 



Essays. 105 

an opportunity to use labor of different 
grades; can use. skilled labor on such 
parts as require it and unskilled on other 
parts. It is also of advantage to many 
workmen, as it gives work to children 
and weak persons who would other- 
wise be unemployed. 

Division is restricted by the nature of 
the process. The work can be analyzed 
into a certain number of parts, and no 
more, and of course the divisions cannot 
be greater than the number of parts. 

By the amount of capital. If a man 
has only capital sufficient to employ his 
own labor he cannot afford to make a 
division of labor. By demand for the 
article, by the executive capacity of the 
manager. 

6. Raw material. Implements and 
machiner3^ Money for the sustenance 
of laborers. Finished products, waiting 
for a market. 



106 JEssays. 

It is not correct to make such a dis- 
tinction as productive and unproductive 
use of capital ; all capital is intended t. 
be productive. Fixed capital is such as 
may be used a number of times, and 
brings in its returns at successive 
periods. Circulating capital brings in 
its returns at once and passes on to other 
hands or is consumed. Money which is 
loaned may be classed as fixed capitaL 
It may be loaned a number of times and 
bring in interest at many different times. 
Money used in making purchases is cir- 
culating. It brings its returns to the 
purchaser at once, and passes entirely 
from his hands. 

7. Distribution of capital. Ratio of 
number of laborers and capital. Con- 
fidence in reward. Intellectual and 
moral culture. 

Division of labor gives rise to combi- 
nations and co-operative associations. It 



Ussai/s. 107 

gives rise to combinations and strikes, 
because it throws a large number of un- 
educated men together, and they fre- 
quently have an idea that the interests 
of the capitalists are directly opposed to 
their own interests. They feel a jealousy 
towards them and a sympathy for each 
other. They agree to stop w^ork until 
wages are raised. During a strike those 
who would work are not allowed to do 
so, and frequently there is the greatest 
distress. 

Associations have been formed to 
cultivate the different feelings between 
the laborer and the capitalist and have 
each understand that the welfare of one 
depends upon that of the other. It ap- 
pears that this would be a good thing, 
but so far there has been but little suc- 
cess. 

8. Free-trade is based on the supposi- 
tion that it is for the happiness and good 



108 Essays. 

of society that there should be free ex- 
change between individuals and nations. 

Protection is directly opposed to free 
trade and makes a supposition that it is 
for the good of nations to protect home 
production by laying a tariff on such 
imported articles as can be produced 
cheaper abroad than at home. 

Free-trade is right for many reasons. 
It is right that capital and labor should 
be free, and in the same way trade 
should be free. A person should be 
allowed to send the products of his 
labor where he wishes, and the law of 
supply and demand should regulate 
the price he gets for them. If for any 
reason foreign countries can produce 
articles cheaper than they can be pro- 
duced at home, let them do it, and let 
home manufacturers turn their atten- 
tion to something else. There are some 
things they can do better than other 



Essays, 109 

nations. Why not apply division of 
labor here, and let each nation do those 
things it can do best ? It is claimed that 
it will be only necessary to support home 
manufactories for a short time, and they 
will have ability after a short time to 
compete with foreign countries. It is 
better to wait until a country has 
reached a stage where it can compete 
and then establish the manufactories. 
Until the manufactories can support 
themselves it is better to get the desired 
products as cheap as possible from 
abroad. For the tariff must be paid 
by the consumer, and is simply a heavy 
tax which is paid to the home manufac- 
turer, and the loss does not fall upon the 
foreign country. It is said that home 
manufactories are necessary in order to 
establish national independence. Such 
independence may be compared to the 
independence of a hermit who lives 



110 Essay s» 

upon his own labor and refuses to have 
intercourse with others. It is true that 
protection may make a home market in 
many places where otherwise it would 
not exist. But it is of no advantage to 
an agriculturist to save the expense of 
transportation if he must more than 
make up for this by giving enormous 
prices for articles he uses. The protec- 
tionist urges with much effect that 
without protection the wages of our 
country would be reduced to that of the 
pauper labor of old countries. If this 
is investigated it is found that the so- 
called pauper labor is that of farms and 
not of manufactures. Certainly the 
farmers of our country need fear nothing 
of this kind, since they can live and 
support the home manufactories under 
the present system. 

9. Credit is trust in the promise for 
an equivalent to be returned for values 



Essays. Ill 

immediately transferred. The nature of 
credit is such as to lessen the amount of 
money used in exchanges. The forms 
of credit are, book accounts, loans, bank 
deposits, notes, U.S. bonds, Mercantile 
paper, credit currency. Useful functions 
of credit are : 1st. Brings wealth into 
form of capital, and renders it produc- 
tive. 2d. Gives efficiency to business 
capacity. 3d. Quickens exchanges. 4th. 
It assists men who are really in need, 
and enables them to live when other- 
wise they would starve. 5th. It saves 
much time and trouble which would be 
spent in making settlements. Illus- 
trated by exchange between New York 
and Liverpool where accounts are bal- 
lanced and little or no money is trans- 
ferred. 

Abuses of Credit. 1st. Too freely used. 
2d. Wild speculations of borrowers. 3d. 
Extravagant living of borrowers. 4th. 



112 Essays, 

Men sometimes borrow with no intention 
of paying. The consequent mischiefs of 
the abuses of credit are : fluctuations, 
failures, commercial crises ; blunts the 
moral sensibilities, and causes men 
to lose inclination to labor with right 
motives. 

10. Standard of value and means of 
exchange fit gold and silver for money, 
1st. Intrinsic value. 2d. Divisibility 
without loss of value. 3d. Uniform 
purity. 4th. When alloyed easily de- 
tected. 5th. Not easil}^ destroyed. 6th. 
Hardness. 7th. Great value concentrated 
in small space. 8th. The way in which 
they are adjusted to each other — gold 
suited for large pieces and silver for 
those of small value. 

General truth. 1st. As a standard of 
value it must have value. 2d. Must be 
universally accepted. 3d. The amount of 



Esmys. 113 

money is in comparison with the number 
of exchanges which are going on. 

The agency of government concerning 
money is to coin money and to establish 
a legal tender. 

8 



114 Essays, 



TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LATIN. 

From the u^neid. 

Oh ! ^neas, why do you lacerate me, 
a miserable one ? Now spare me, buried ; 
forbear to defile your pious hands. Troy 
does not bear me a stranger to you, or 
this blood would not flow from the bark. 
Ho ! flee from this cruel earth, flee from 
the shores of the avaricious, for I am 
Polydorous. An iron crop of darts 
fixed me here, and has shot up into sharp 
javelins. Then indeed I stood horrified, 
oppressed as to my mind with a double- 
headed fear, and my hairs stood up, and 
my voice clung to my throat. Unhappy 
Priam demanded Polydorous that the 
gold with so great weight should be 
brought up to the Thracian King. Now 



Essays. 115 

while he was distrusting the Dardanian 
arms he saw the city surrounded by a 
blockade. He saw that the resources of 
the Trojans were broken and fortune 
had fled. He followed the affairs of the 
Greek and successful arms, he broke 
every divine law, he killed Polydorous 
and gained possession of the gold by 
force. Oh ! accursed thirst for gold, 
what will you not compel mortal minds 
to do? 

After fear left my bones, 1 bore the 
portents of the gods to the chosen chiefs 
of the people, and especially to my father, 
and demanded what their opinion might 
be. There was the same mind to all, to 
depart from the wicked country, to leave 
the polluted hospitality and to give the 
wind to the fleet. 



116 Essays, 



Dido's Entreaty to u^neas. 

Moreover, do you hope to be able to dis- 
simulate such unlawful things, O faith- 
less one, and silently to depart from my 
lands ? Neither does our love hold thee ; 
neither the right hand given formerly 
hold thee ; neither Dido about to die by 
cruel death? When also do you attempt 
the fleet under a wintry star and hasten 
to go over the sea in the midst of 
the north wind, O cruel one ? Why, if 
you do not see foreign lands and un- 
known homes, and ancient Troy should 
remain, should Troy be sought by the 
fleet through a billowy sea? Why do 
you leave me ? I beseech thee b}^ these 
tears and thy right hand (for nothing 
remains to me — a miserable one — except 
these), by our marriage, and by the 



Essays. 117 

nuptials just begun, if I have deserved 
anything well from thee, or if anything 
of mine was sweet to thee, pity the fallen 
house, and if there is any place for 
prayers, change thy mind. On account 
of thee the Libian race and the tyrants 
of the Nomads hate me, the Tyrians are 
hostile ; on account of thee the same 
modesty is extinct, and, by that fame 
first I was approaching the stars. For 
whom do you desert me about to die, O 
guest — since this name alone remains 
from husband? Why do I delay? or 
while my brother Pj^gmalion destroys 
the walls, or Ggetulian larbas leads me 
a captive. If at least any offspring might 
have been left to me from thee before 
thy flight, if any little iEneas might 
play in the halls for me, who neverthe- 
less bears thy countenance, not indeed 
would I seem altogether deceived and 
deserted. 



118 Essays. 



From Tacitus. 

I myself agree with the opmions of 
those who think the people of Germany 
are mixed with no other nations by 
intermarriages, but they constitute a 
race unmixed and only like itself. For 
which reason also the characteristics of 
their bodies are the same to all, although 
there is so great a number of men ; fierce, 
and with dark blue eyes, sandy hair, 
great bodies, and only valid for attack ; 
and there is not the same endurance of 
labors and of works ; and, least of all, are 
they accustomed to bear thirst and heat, 
but by their climate and soil they are 
accustomed to bear cold and want. 

It is necessary to take up the enmities, 
either of fathers or of relations, just as 
friendships ; nor do they remain implac- 
able, for even homicide is forgiven by a 



JEiisays, 119 

certain number of cattle or of sheep, and 
the whole family connection receives 
satisfaction, which is useful in public, 
because hostilities, like liberty, are dan^ 
gerous. We have taken up these things 
in general concerning the origin and 
customs of all the Germans ; now I shall 
hasten on to the political institutions 
and rites of each race, in what respect 
they differ, what nations have emigrated 
from Germany into Gaul. 

Among the German people I have 
not enumerated those who inhabit the 
tithe-paying fields, although they settled 
across the Rhine and Danube rivers. 
Each most distinguished and bold, the 
one of Gaul at first occupied the soil as 
^ a doubtful possession. Soon, with a de- 
fined limit and established guard, the 
frontier of the empire and part of the 
province are held. 

Of the gods they especially cherish 



120 Essays, 

Mercury, to whom they consider it law- 
ful to sacrifice on certain days, and also 
with human victims. They appease Mars 
and Hercules with animals sacrificed. 
And a part of the Suevi sacrifice to Isidus. 
From what cause and origin the sacred 
rites were brought in it is too little known 
unless that the banner itself, figured in 
the manner of a Liburnian galley taught 
the religion brought in. But they think 
from .the greatness of the Heavens they 
should not limit gods to walls, or simu- 
late them in any appearance of human 
face. They consecrate forests and groves 
and they call by the names of the gods 
that which is secret, that which they see 
with reverence alone. 



